The Water Nymph
by Sarela Jade
Summary: Entirely Leroux based. What REALLY happens when a Mary Sue wanders her way down to Erik's lair. Very, very dark and morbid.


Chained. Stiff, rigid iron curled about her pale arms, sharp chipped edges punctured her skin. Her hair hung straight and sodden around her face, bruises and fresh wounds etched across her limbs… her tattered skirts hung heavily about her pathetic figure, soaked muslin clinging to her legs. She moaned exhaustedly, pained by such restraint, slowly raising her head. Blinking, she squinted and struggled to see through the darkness, her gaze obscured by her sopping hair, hanging in front of her eyes. Tears blended with the remnants of dark, cold water, numb to such iciness. Beads of water soaked her cheeks, saliva trickled down her chin.

She tried to turn her head, but with every slight movement, each gesture, brought about such terrible pain - a fiery ache pooling in her neck and shooting through her entire body, equally and fiercely locked by the unbreakable chains. Pain circled around her neck, stung her flesh, her skin hot and burned, peeled. She blinked several times, trying to decipher her surroundings, wondering about the violent sting in her neck, attempting to recall the dreadful memories which were cradled far beyond perception, a splinter of the mind's eye.

_Darkness… water…_

Her eyelids drooped, her heart and mind dangerously close to crossing the threshold of oblivion.

_Sensations, curiosity… corridors… torches…_

She whimpered, her face contorting in pain and fear as she moved her fingers and arms. The iron chains jangled, cutting her flesh. The cold, frigid air engulfed her, mists coursing through stone.

_Water…_

She remembered nothing, save for an icy blackness, drawn into the depths by a mysterious voice, rising over the water that she had feared. Arms, thick and monstrous, had quickly reached from the dark water and had furiously grabbed her by the neck and had plucked her from the water's edge, further down, into the dark chasms of the lake…

Where breathing had been lost to her, time had stopped.

_Breathless…_

Unable to move, unable to die. Ensnared within the grasp of a ghost, a watery corpse, roughly, yet easily, wrestling her beneath the water, holding her down.

Wet, rotten hands had grasped her hair tightly, pulling her… hauled from the merciless depths, she had been thrown, her body hurled against a stone wall, drenched and dripping…

A coarse lasso had been wrapped firmly around her neck, clasped tightly by gnarled, decayed hands. Breathless and terrified, her eyes had gone wide with horror. A mask, whole and concealing and unbroken, had loomed over. Hatred and rage had swam within the sickly yellow eyes that had glowered at her, and she, powerless to such strength, had succumbed, choking helplessly. Strangled by death's rope, wrenched by its mad masked master. The lasso had been drawn tighter and tighter around her neck with each new angry breath that escaped his lipless mouth, fuming madly…

_She lingered on the edge of consciousness, as life slowly left her, consumed by such silent pain. So close to death, so near, unable to hear or think or utter the slightest cry._

She gasped loudly, struggling to keep her eyes open.

_Ghosts._

A memory, a faint vision, alighted her mind instantly… water. So much water. Fiery, sinister eyes, sharp nails slicing her skin… crippled flesh molding against hers.

"H-h…" she murmured. Her eyes rolled open and she gazed into nothingness, veiled in shadow. "Help… mm…" she flinched. Her throat burned, her voice was gruff and raspy, and not her own. Breath and voice had been stolen by that horrible lasso…

And suddenly, a flicker of movement, an _swoosh _from beyond, faintly alerted her senses. Her eyes roamed the mildew-laden, moist chamber. The rattling of the chains shredded her ears, the sharp sounds perturbed her mind. She quaked violently, muttering, "Who…?"

"Naughty," a deep, humorless voice said. "Such a naughty child…"

She breathed heavily, the sudden jerking of her head causing her to become dizzy, as she looked around. A vague, thin shape, barely visible, a blurred figure in line of her poor vision. "W-w-who's th-there?" she wondered.

Silence.

"Please," the young woman begged. Her knees shook. "Ch… ch-chains…"

There came an odd sound, like a laugh, but rid of all hilarity. A deep chuckle. "Quite lovely, are they not?"

The figure swept forward with incredible ease and swiftness, with strange yellow eyes - the same ones of the water nymph, she supposed, who had pulled her into the dark lake…

_A water nymph_, she decided dreamily, for concentration and actual sense was now lost to her, drowned within the glassy lake, which seemed so long ago. A peculiar name for such a vicious creature, but she knew not what to call the certain being that had yanked her from the shore, who had pulled her into the lake so quickly.

The ghostly form before her wrinkled his ugly brow. "You do not like the chains?" he wondered, sounding inwardly hurt.

She groaned and her head sagged, her chin falling against her chest. "Mmm…" she tried. "They… hurt… pl-please…" she whined. "T-take them… off…"

The ghost sighed, shaking his head. "Now that is no way to welcome my hospitality."

The young woman muttered inaudibly, the cold of his presence making her shudder. "I-I can't… feel… please," she raised her voice, barely managing to achieve more than a loud whisper. "Please!"

He sighed impatiently, ignoring her constant pleas. "Enough," he said, his voice near, demanding and irritated. "I tire of this _rambling _of yours…" he paused. "What were you doing in my lake?"

"I…" she mumbled, hardly audible. She tried to clear her throat, to speak louder, but doing so was painful, and cool breath scraped through her windpipe and pierced her throat. To simply breathe, to drink the cold air, was excruciating. "I was… I found… t-there was a do-door. I didn't mean to… I w-was on-ly…" she cried out and raised her eyes, entreating him. "Please… please…"

"Enough of the pathetic begging!" he snapped. "Answer the question."

"I… I was…"

"Curious?" the figure snarled. He laughed and turned away from her, bringing his fingers to his mouth in mad delight. He muttered under his breath, "oh, of course, they all are! Naughty little children who wander too close to the water's edge…"

She was silent, so lost in the offending haze which rippled about her, that she did not hear him.

"I couldn't… I saw the door…" she tried to say.

He stopped his cursed mumbling and turned back to her. "And?" he asked curtly, eyes wild.

"Corridor," she moaned. "Oh, please, t-take them of-ff…"

He frowned. "What?"

"The chains," she replied. "They h-hurt so much… I promise, I-I'll leave, I didn't mean to…"

The ghost waved his hand indifferently. "Simple fools do not dare to keep such oaths and live to see them fulfilled. _You_, however… are far too… _unpredictable_."

She gave a cry, exasperated. The chains burned her skin. "W-What do you want from mm…?"

He glared at her, his face close to hers. His breath shadowed her wet face, crawling up her nostrils, sickening her. "Who are you?" he asked murderously. When she did not answer, he grabbed the chains hanging from her arms and pulled them, tightened them, and a wild, helpless scream escaped her lips, tearing her throat. "Answer me!" he ordered.

"Please!" she pleaded. "Let me g-go… please!"

"Is this how all you women treat your rescuers? By not cooperating?"

She tried to struggle, but each movement brought about such severe pain. "Let me go!" she kept repeating. "Please!"

He drew his scrawny face near hers, scowling angrily. "I owe you no favors, _my dear_," he hissed. "It was _you _who trespassed on my property, my domain!"

"I didn't… oh, god…"

He tugged on the chains again, blood caking her arms and ankles. "Show me some respect!" he roared. "I gave you life again, I spared you! And this is how you reward me?"

She shook her head and convulsed.

"Answer the question," he seethed darkly. "Or Erik shall leave you here, chained and all alone, where no one will ever find you."

"Please!"

"_Answer me_!"

She did not. She chewed her lip and clenched her eyes, sobbing bitterly.

The ghost straightened, drawing his cloak. "Very well," he sneered.

"The water nymph," she blurted out, just as he had faded from sight. "The water nymph. I-I heard it… it was beautiful… I couldn't… the door… it was open. I heard it. I-It grew louder." she paused to take a good breath. "Water," she said again. "It was in t-the water… I…" she sobbed. "Oh, please, these c-chains… I'll t-tell you, please, untie me! Let me go!"

"And why would Erik do that?"

At length, she began to wonder who this 'Erik' was, but decided against it to ask.

"Because… because… oh… it hurts!" she shrieked.

"You will find that pain is associated with many things, _ma petite_," he whispered wickedly, his dead mouth nearly against her ear. She screamed and tried to jerk her head away, to escape him, but he swooped around her, glaring at her, his hands gripping the chains. "You cannot hide from me!" he said between clenched teeth. "You cannot run!" at this, he laughed loudly, "for you are chained!"

She twisted her head around, closing her sore eyes tightly. "I'll d-do anything, _monsieur_," she promised. "A-Anything. Just pl-please, untie me."

He grabbed her chin with his skeletal fingers and violently turned her head, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Is that all you want?" he asked her. "If I untie you, you will…"

"Anything," she rasped.

He huffed and seized the iron chains, bending over. He unwound them from about her ankles and then stood, unclamping the shackles from around her arms. The iron chains hung on the moist wall, cold and sharp, jangling against the stones. "As you wish," he said simply and stood back, watching as the young woman heaved a great sigh and fell forward, tumbling to the wet, filfthy ground. Free from such constraint. She drew her bloody knees to her chest and brought her hands to her face, sobbing hysterically.

"Thank you," she mumbled hoarsely.

A slight grin curled onto his lips, a malicious smile hidden by his mask, delighted to see her ensnared by such weakness, crawling on her hands and knees before him, miserable and weary. "You wished to be freed," he said.

She nodded, glancing up at him. "Y-Yes," she replied, almost nervously.

He sank to his knee beside her. His features slowly hardened, appalled by her wretched silence and whispers. Impatiently he grabbed her wet hair and yanked her head back, exposing her lily neck. "If it is freedom you want, then freedom Erik shall give you," he hissed, and swiftly covered her mouth and nose with his crippled hand. Her eyes widened and she gasped, unable to struggle or fight, for her limbs were unmoving. Energy and strength had long ago disappeared. His other hand wrapped bony fingers around her neck, suffocating her, his hand covering the hot rope's mark left by his lasso. The young woman writhed and whimpered, her fearful eyes darkened. So ugly yet familiar she looked, even as glorious life left her face, the terrified shimmer dissolving from her unreadable eyes.

"Monster," she whispered so quietly, a last, frightened plea, desperate for precious air. An eerie calmness glinted in her eyes. Confidence and hope astray, she surrendered wholly and brokenly, suddenly falling limp against the dungeon stones. Her head fell to the side, splashed by the nearby puddles of vile water, limbs nestled amongst blood and grime. The faint pulse slowly drifted and departed from her, a gentle beat beneath his fingers, until life fled from her shattered body… completely, totally…

"Such a naughty child," he said to the darkness, a lingering, haunting hiss amongst the Communists' dungeon. "A good thing that you have learned a lesson." He numbly glowered, shaking his head.

_A pity,_ he thought. _Such a great pity._

* * *

Messieurs Moncharmin and Richard hustled to their office the next morning, tired and drowsy as they lit the gas lamps, dreading the new day. But as light descended about the tiny office, the managers gasped, eyes widening in panic and shock as they gazed at the limp and lifeless young woman sprawled about the wooden floor: blood and bruises cloaked her entire figure, goosebumps had sprouted upon her clammy skin. Messy, tousled hair was matted over her face, concealing her empty eyes. Pale cheeks, dry, cracked lips. Colorless hands, broken bones… 

A worn, crumpled note was pinned to her dress. Moncharmin furrowed his brow and slowly approached the battered woman, snatching the paper from her drenched form. Richard frightfully peered over his partner's shoulder, examining the note with surprise and alarm. Moncharmin gazed at the small, red words, written in childlike script:

_Please keep your ingénues out of my foyer._

_O. G._


End file.
